


To Reach Your Overgrown Garden

by InkfaceFahz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe - College/University, Like All My Fics Have Those Tho, M/M, Moniwa's Inferiority Complex, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Post canon, Support Vocational And Technical Education Folks, Technically Some Minor Flashbacks, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 08:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkfaceFahz/pseuds/InkfaceFahz
Summary: As a hand reaches out for another under a barrier, another wants to reach out and touch what's in front of it now. They just need to make contact.--Oikawa Tooru and Moniwa Kaname end up on the same floor of an undergraduate dorm at Tohoku University. Neither of them expect this, for drastically different reasons.





	To Reach Your Overgrown Garden

**Author's Note:**

> i dunno let's just have some young men have a nice fic with no death

Oikawa Tooru had seen Moniwa Kaname several times, in brief transitional times before and after matches. When they had lined up in their first years prior to a match, the messy-haired one looked almost like he still belonged in junior high,  Tooru thought -- by far the shortest starter, nothing like the reputation of Datekogyo’s team. And a first year starter, like himself. And a setter, like himself. 

Seijoh was one of the few private academies that would have training camps with the public and vocational schools, thanks to the restrictions of geography in Miyagi. Dateko, Wakutani, other schools on the edges of Sendai, but not nearly as remote as ones farther out in the mountains. Moniwa couldn’t be missed even in the veritable forest of tall, bulky teammates. It seemed like he had an authority to his presence that was greater than his stature. The first camp they were both at, it almost seemed like their team’s captain deferred to his judgement. 

A year or so later,  Tooru saw Moniwa sitting by himself during the free period during one of these training camps. 

“Something interesting there?”  Tooru inquired, mostly genuine, but with a slightly mocking edge. The rest of the Dateko giants were doing extra drills or talking to other players. Moniwa abruptly folded the fabric. 

“Oh, um, hello, Oikawa-san,” he stumbled the words out after a fashion. 

“Moni-kun, come on, that’s too formal. So what is it?” 

Moniwa unfolded it. 

“Your… team’s captain’s jersey?”  Oikawa looked a bit perplexed. 

“Mine,” he said softly. “After the inter-high, especially if we didn’t earn a seed for Spring High qualifiers, most years the third years leave the team.”

“Why would they give up like that?” 

“A lot of the third years are preparing for apprenticeships or colleges of technology. We... almost seeded this year, but most of the third years have the future to think about.”

“And apparently everyone on the team thinks I should be the next captain.” 

“Don’t exactly sound excited,” Oikawa pointed out. Moniwa sighed. 

“I’m no ace. Probably every setter here is better than me.” Moniwa glanced up at Oikawa. Even his more neutral expression had a certain edge of anxiety. Oikawa nearly bit his tongue -- even he knew bragging about himself was a poor idea here. 

“I just want to keep playing with my team and my friends as long as I can.” 

Oikawa straightened up. “Well,” he said, “You know what that means, right?” Moniwa looked up at him, and waved towards someone in the crowd of teenagers. 

“What do you mean?” 

“If you want to play as long as you can, it’s your job as captain! And I swear, Seijoh’s going to beat Dateko while you’re captain, so work hard!” 

Moniwa looked down and away, but smiled. “You sound ready to become a captain.” 

“I’ll hold you to it, Moni-kun.” 

“MONIWA, SENPAI, AONE’S SCARING SOME FIRST YEAR FROM ANOTHER SCHOOL,” a youthful boy with light brown hair called. Moniwa sighed and stood up. 

“See you another time,” He said, immediately falling into his 2nd nature, running damage control. 

\------

“Hey neighbor,” Moniwa had been hanging some laundry on his room’s small balcony to dry, and found someone familiar greeting him in a sing-song tone the next balcony over. There was for a while a small group of the local team captains who would hang out now and again, share study tips on messaging, and generally were friendly outside in-game rivalries. So he recognized Tooru immediately. 

“Oikawa-kun -- hi. You didn’t mention you were coming to Tohoku when we were discussed university plans,” he said, moving the shirt he had hung up between their balconies. 

“It worked out, really. I didn’t feel like moving to another city. You grew up a little farther out, though, right, Moni-kun?”

“A bit, yes… I can still get back home now and then. What are you studying?” Truthfully, Moniwa was a bit surprised. 

“Education,” Oikawa answered casually, leaning on the edge of the balcony, up at Moniwa. “You?” 

“It’s in the Engineering department -- Material Design. It’s uh,” he thought for a second, “I thought about the architecture section, but honestly… I guess I got interested in sporting equipment… in my third year my shop focus was textiles.” 

He felt like he was talking too much, and so suddenly fell quiet. Oikawa didn’t lean away, however. In fact, he seemed impressed. 

“That’s really unique. So you want to make high-tech, uniforms and gear and stuff?” 

It was a short conversation, but longer than most they’d had before. One of the other boys who graduated that year joked Moniwa was an “Iron Wallflower” when spending time with others, so he’d only had extended conversations with a handful of students from other schools. 

“I have to finish unpacking, but glad to have a neighbor I know, Moni-kun.” 

Moniwa waved his hand from side to side. “We’re in university now… you can just call me Kaname.” 

Oikawa grinned back at him. “I never got you to stop saying “Oikawa- ** _san_ ** ” for three years. So don’t forget ‘ Tooru’, then, Kaname.” 

Moniwa stayed out on the balcony for a while, holding a shirt to his chest. The other boy was still very attractive. Being introverted around other school’s players was how he protected himself from the warm feeling in his chest when he glanced at them, letting his gaze slide over them without lingering -- nothing that would catch their attention. Oikawa was looking older, but in a charming was, like a new, young tv drama actor. Though his mind stopped on a set of braces on his right leg, and the stick leaning against the balcony he had picked up that Moniwa finally realized was probably a cane or crutch. 

He knew better than to ask personal things, though. It wasn’t his business. He still thought about Oikawa that night, though, inserted in his dream the memory of watching him serve from the other side, graceful but powerful, a sensation like it would impact directly in his chest. 

  
  
  


Living a room away from Oikawa would have intimidated him before. But he wasn’t the star on the court here -- he wore glasses, Moniwa noticed, and he was often found in the common space on their floor, talking to another resident about things like early-child development and academic success rates by high school. 

It wasn’t a subject Moniwa particularly understood, or whether it did matter. As long as it only came towards him and not his friends, the outdated judgement of vocational school degrees rolled off his back. It wasn’t a “pity” he didn’t apply to Seijoh or some other academically-rigorous, expensive private school. He even went out of his way to find statistics that proved they weren’t just a place to put “problems” that his homeroom teacher never even looked at. He remembered a lot of it.

_ “Kan-nii-chan, why are you going there? Aren’t you smart enough for real school?”  _

_ “Minoru… I told you. Datekogyo does have good academics.” _

_ “But my teacher sometimes says ‘technical school is only technically a school’.” Kaname had heard similar jokes at his junior high.  _

_ “Mi-chan… Mama was in a nursing program at a vocational school. Papa went to an agricultural high school. They’re smart, right?” _

_ “Of course!”  _

_ “They’re not just smart in their brains, little sister -- they’re smart with their hands, too.”  _

_ “That seems important.”  _

Hands. Moniwa realized as he was recalling that exchange with his sister, years ago, he had been staring at Oikawa’s. Moniwa new he hadn’t been bad as a setter, by any means. He played dependably. He treated each toss as a cornerstone to support the wall. Other setters he’d played against we more free with using dumps and decoys… and whatever those Karasuno 1st years did during his last game… 

His hands supported the court from tumbling down on their side, until they couldn’t hold the heavy weights that came after him. Oikawa’s hands in a set looked like a grand gesture that communicated solely with his team, like a politician’s arms raised, making a point in a speech. 

  
  


Of course, many differences were between them. Moniwa never favored jump serves. He tried not to look at Oikawa’s leg… it seemed impolite. But he’d checked the clubs -- of all people, Oikawa Tooru’s name being absent from their volleyball club had baffled him. 

He asked his mother about volleyball injuries once -- regretting it after her detailed medical knowledge was a bit graphic for his stomach -- when he first saw a player with a leg wrapped in sports tape limping off the court after only a few minutes. That had been Oikawa, early in their 2nd year. There couldn’t be any argument that Oikawa had worked the hardest of any of almost anyone in any club in the region.

Was it worth so few years?

Did he care? 

“Hey Kaname,” he called, jolting Moniwa out of this pondering. “C’mon, sit down with us. Samuel,” he pointed to the international student on their floor, “is like a trivia book about those shoe companies you wanna engineer for after you graduate.” Moniwa picked up the bottle of tea he’d walked in to get, trying to reject the offer with silence. 

“You don’t have to be an Iron Wallflower here, we all live together,” Oikawa argued before Moniwa could even think of a verbal response to use. His joking grin then dropped as he peered over, and muttered to himself about how about not being so damn stupid, rising from the couch and making his way over to Moniwa, hands stuffed in his pockets, with his slightly jerky, uneven gait. The elevator in the building had been undergoing repairs this afternoon, so he had dragged himself up the flights and ignored the ache by thinking  _ it won’t always feel like this _ over and over until it had no meaning. 

“One sec, Sam, Mimako,” he called, stalking up on Moniwa who was inputting his room code in. 

“Kaname.” If Moniwa didn't have such a good sense for tall people sneaking up behind him -- courtesy his high school team -- he would have jumped a foot and smacked Oikawa’s chin. 

“ -- Don’t worry about it,” he finally settled on, not turning to face the other. He opened the door, but Oikawa’s arm was wedged in the frame to keep it from shutting on him before Moniwa could blink. 

“Can I please come in for just a minute?” There was that sincerity that plenty of people seemed to think Oikawa couldn’t express. 

“I guess.” The door shut. Moniwa leaned over his desk, which Oikawa noted was chaos next to most other students’. “You can sit on the bed if you want.” 

“What? I don’t have to sit,” he replied, baffled. 

“Just give me some peace of mind. You ought to... “ Moniwa trailed off. 

“ -- I didn’t mean to use that nickname to be hurtful,” Oikawa blurted out, having acquiesced to the offer of a seat. “It was … I always thought it was nice. I didn’t know… you don’t like it.” 

Moniwa finally turned and looked at Oikawa. 

“Tooru,” he started, “It’s not…. that. I just... “ He clutched the sides of his head, which Oikawa had started to notice was one of the signals he was getting overwhelmed, or anxious… Things that seem so obvious only when you saw someone first and last thing everyday. So he moved over to have Moniwa sit down next to him. 

“I must have done something,” he interrupted with worry, with… sadness that made Moniwa lower his hands. Oikawa was aware one rested very close to his on the bed. 

“ -- 'Iron Wallflower',” Moniwa said. Oikawa blinked. “I guess it’s funny.” The way he said that made Oikawa’s mouth taste like iron. 

"I thought it was a good nickname. It wasn't full of… bravado, or obnoxious like the ones some of us got on the court. It sounds strong but… Not aggressive. It matched you," he said, looking over at moniwa,who has turned a little red. 

"I figured you didn't like any of us,” Oikawa continued. “It seemed like… Sawamura was trying his best, you know. That guy…. Never had a habit of giving up.” 

Moniwa just stared at his floor lie he wanted to sink into it. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking very slightly. “Most of you had that habit. Or you had the pitying nature.” 

Oikawa honestly look sad. “Kaname -- we didn’t want you to join us out of pity. It was the last few months we had before real life. We wanted to have fun. Make memories. Stuff you do at the end of high school. ” 

“Sure.” 

“Your anxiety took a hard turn to cynicism after graduation, huh,” a hint of the younger sass he used to flex seemingly snapping out before he pulled himself away physically a couple inches. 

Moniwa sighed. “I’m not going to get mad, Tooru. Why are you flinching?” 

“It wasn’t a flinch,” he argued. They sat in silence for a moment. 

“You’re leaving our housemates waiting, Tooru,” Moniwa finally said. Oikawa glanced at him, slightly confused. 

“They’re fine. They’re dating, I thought you knew that.” He stopped to think for a second before plowing forward. “I introduced them during orientation.” 

“Oh,” Moniwa said. “I didn’t know you were a matchmaker.” 

“I mean… Even if it doesn’t last, I think I can tell when two people will… have a good time while it happens, you know.” These words were getting real dangerous while sitting on Moniwa’s bed, he realized, and immediately ran through a list of strategies to let him know that this wasn’t more teasing. Most ideas were not well-suited to the space avaliable, would require him to exert his bad leg, or were just, very, very stupid. So he settled on the direct method: setting his hand over Moniwa’s and looking him in the eye. Not a trace of sarcasm. 

It was like he hit a switch and it caused an error message in Moniwa’s brain. He was going fully red-faced, his mouth was hanging just slightly open, and his hand trembled slightly under Oikawa’s. 

So he decided to wrap his fingers around Moniwa’s. 

“If you really do dislike me… I’ll leave you alone. You don’t have to be friends, or anything…I’ve just never been able to tell whether you hated somebody.” 

“And… I was a little disappointed when I saw I wasn’t going to get to play against you one more time in high school,” he admitted. Yes, obviously, winning against Dateko had been good, anyway, and if only he’d been able to match up with Tobio’s team in the following match… Oikawa felt a little twinge in his knee, which was something that came and went, but it couldn’t help but happen when he remembered clawing out of the pile of chairs with his upper back muscles burning only for that slightly hard forward lean, like an ice pick through his nerves as he got back up. Before it was over all the same.

He didn’t want to think about that. He did that in physiotherapy, and on stairs, and at night if there was a persistent ache. He was too busy trying to find the reaction in the sharp irises that Moniwa’s pupils filled in like ink on a droplet of water. 

“You,” his only word for a second, a little sharp, like an accusation or a plea. 

“ -- can’t be. I’m… me,” his shoulders sagged slightly, and Oikawa’s heart fell a little as well. 

“There isn’t anything wrong with you,” Oikawa replied, his hand still wrapped around Moniwa’s. “A lot of people count themselves as your friend, you know. A lot more than count someone like me or Ushiwaka, probably,” he admitted. 

Moniwa shook his wrist. “And this…?” 

“I mean… I thought you were looking good when we met on the balconies on the second day, I thought -- we might have a bit of fun…” 

“... I figured that you were gay since sometime in 1st year, you know,” Oikawa added. Moniwa sharply looked down, and Oikawa decided it was okay to let his other hand reach to his cheek, and stroked it softly. He felt how hot Moniwa was blushing. 

“I was standing at the net, and a boy wearing the #7 jersey held his arm outstretched, so stiff, looking straight at me… When our teams shook hands i could see his ears going pinker against his dark hair when his hand touched mine... “ Oikawa was speaking softer and softer, eyes cast downward, feeling the tension against his hand the other young man seemed to tightly twist up and carry with him loosen a bit. 

“Tooru --” Moniwa said, leading Oikawa to stop and look back in his eyes. They were shining a little. 

“ -- I was scared,” was all he said, and suddenly Oikawa was aware of a sudden, soft weight of a hand pressing against his chest, and Moniwa leaned in, hesitantly sharing a kiss with him. In a brief moment Oikawa noticed so many small things about Moniwa -- the herbal note to his soap, how soft his thicker, darker hair was against Oikawa’s forehead, how delicate his lashes were as he fluttered his eyelids shut… He closed his own eyes and simply enjoyed the moment, moving his hand down to Moniwa’s waist -- feeling him tense and then relax under the touch -- recalling the glance over his shoulder at the other young player, wondering for only a second if it really was possible that some of the other boys were like him, too, before the younger ones in uniform disappeared together into another corner of his mind. 

It was springtime at university, and it didn’t matter if -- for the first year, at least -- he wasn’t playing on a team. It was a good time for the two of them to let their spirits play a different adolescent game, at least for a little while. 


End file.
